Chapter 12
by jmsutherland
Summary: Sally discovers something about Harry and Angua discovers something about both of them.


Page **12** of **12**

**Chapter XII**

Having washed and dressed Angua headed back downstairs, drawn by a smell that her nose was telling her was unmistakeable and her brain was telling her wasn't possible.

"Are you cooking with garlic!?" she asked, incredulously, as she came in to the kitchen.

"Of course I am," said Sally, "I am an artist; could you imagine a painter refusing to use blue?"

"Of course I could, painters are all mad, but not as mad a vampire chopping garlic."

"Times change, and we must all move forward. I mean, when's the last time you ripped someone's throat out?"

"Oh, not for weeks," Angua assured her, "but seriously, Sally, this sounds a bit like Lucy. Are you punishing yourself?"

"I am suffering for my art," said Sally, sweeping back her hair.

"Would you just be serious for one minute?!" Angua demanded, exasperated.

"Mind over Master."

"What? I don't understand."

"Let's just say that I'm not prepared to give in to my inner bloodsucker. I go out in the sunlight, after all."

"Well, not much, and well wrapped-up."

"Baby steps, my dear, baby steps."

"What about the other myths? I've been to your flat and it seems obsessively, almost compulsively tidy."

"Oh, I don't like mess, or untied bootlaces, but that's why I wear sandals."

"And is it true what you said about the stake through the heart not killing you?"

"I have to say that it would certainly sting a bit, but no, it wouldn't be fatal."

"What about cutting off your head?"

"Well that would kill virtually anything," laughed Sally.

"But not you?"

"No, not me."

"So, what does kill a vampire?"

"Ah, that would be telling."

"Do you think I can't be trusted with the knowledge?"

"I'd trust you with my life, my pretty one."

"But not with the means to take it away."

"Well, I know how you feel about vampires."

"Not you! Or your mum, or Lucy, or Vlad, or Otto or…"

"You know, some of my best friends are wolves but… Oh, and it is dessert without cream or chocolate, if you must know."

"I know, I know; I can almost hear myself. It's like this Omnian thing, isn't it?"

"You know about that?"

"Of course I do, I'm not blind."

"Does Carrot know?"

"He does now. And what's The Watch doing about it? And you do mean Commander Carrot, don't you, sergeant?"

"Yes, former-sergeant, I do mean Commander Carrot. And what are we supposed to do about it? No one ever makes a complaint and the perpetrators slyly don't perpetrate when we're around to nick them."

"So what? Why didn't you tell Carrot?"

"You mean Commander…"

"Sally, don't!"

"Look, I report to Stronginthearm. I told him and it's his job to pass it up the chain of command."

Angua couldn't really argue, because that was the way things were supposed to be done.

"You could have spoken to me if you thought things weren't being done."

"I don't tell tales out of school," said Sally, affronted.

"As if you ever went to school," Angua snorted.

"I did, actually," sniffed Sally, "in fact I went to school with your great-great great-great-great grandmother."

"Fine, let's change the subject. Who were you in love with?"

"Now there's a tangent."

"What's a tangent?"

"Trigonometry, something your great-great great-great-great grandmother and I studied at school."

"Never you mind jommetry," Angua persisted, "who were you in love with?"

Sally looked at her blankly for a moment and the frowned:

"I don't know," she had to admit.

"What?!" yelled Angua, "that's insane! How can you not know who you were in love with?"

Sally's face was almost a parody of misery:

"I just can't remember. My parents did something to my memory, or his did, or hers…I just don't know."

"You don't know if you were in love with a boy or a girl?!"

Angua was beginning to wonder if she'd ever had a stranger conversation.

"Well, I don't know what I don't know," said Sally.

"Not even an inkling?"

Sally arched her eyebrows in a way that only a vampire can –Angua only had the one- and it was very easy to read. It said: I can see right through you, matey, now back-off if you value your blood-supply.

"Ok, cheap shot, sorry. And your mother went along with this?"

"No, I don't think so, but she won't tell me; she says it's better if I don't know."

"And you believe her?"

Sally scowled at her:

"Angua, I trust my mum even more than I trust you; and I would trust you with my soul, if I had one."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that about your mum, but hasn't she given you any idea?"

"Well, sort of. I get the impression that I was considered to be of inferior stock," said Sally, blushing.

Vampires prided themselves on their chalk-white skin. For the sake of blending-in they were generally prepared to darken a few shades, depending on where they were preying. But blushing was considered so _infra dig_ that it could get you banned from all the worst clubs. Few believed they were even capable of it, and that was the root of the problem.

"WHAT!?" Angua exclaimed in disbelief, "Sally, your name is three pages long, your lineage goes back to before there were people and you have more titles than a moving picture; the Agatean Emperor would consider you a step up. Who could you possibly be inferior to?"

"Human blood," said Sally, morosely.

"Yes, I know, you used to drink it."

"No, I mean in me."

"That's where things generally go when you drink them."

"Don't be flippant," said Sally, irritably stamping her foot, "I meant in my bloodline."

"I know what you meant, it's just that you're so cute when you're angry."

"You've never seen me angry. You would like me when I'm angry; I go a funny green colour."

"What, a blue-blood like you?"

"Angua," said Sally firmly, "there is a fine line between joshing with a friend and infuriating glibness; you crossed that line a long time ago."

"Then why are you smiling?"

"Because you appear to know me better than I know myself."

"Does that mean you're going to tell all?"

"No."

"Aww," said Agua sulkily, "why not?"

"Because I have work to do –so do you- and the boys will be arriving shortly. I'll tell you soon."

"We may not reckon _soon_ in quite the same way."

"Well, I promise to tell you before I die."

Angua, though, wasn't so easily deflected:

"But do you promise to tell me before _I_ die?"

"That too," Sally chuckled.

"I'm not entirely convinced."

"Yeah? So, what are you going to do, bite me?"

As soon as Carrot came through the door she could see she didn't have to ask the question. Still, there were wifely duties that simply had to be done:

"How was your day, dear?"

"Khra'tz'grh!" he replied.

"Well, go and wash, we have guests, and wash your mouth out while you're at it, but not with the good soap."

Carrot's shoulders slumped which, given the size of his shoulders, was quite impressive in itself.

"I'm sorry, wife" he said.

Angua would have preferred "darling", but she now knew enough to appreciate that "wife" was one of the most loving and respectful things a dwarf could say. Hey ho.

"Never mind, dinner's nearly ready."

"Is Harry here?"

"Yes, he is, and he doesn't look any happier than you do."

"Good," Carrot affirmed.

"Oh, this is going to be a lovely evening."

It was simply the most awkward meal Angua had attended since her wedding day; in spite of all his assurances that the food was delicious, Harry ate almost nothing; nor did she nor Sally. Only Carrot ate heartily: including the green soup, the fish and all the vegetables; a sure sign that he was furious.

"Perhaps we should clear up," Sally suggested, after Carrot's third helping of dessert.

"Yes," agreed Angua eagerly, "and leave the men to their brandy and cigars."

She didn't find that any funnier than the rest of them seemed to. And then a most peculiar thing happened: Sally tripped.

Vampires didn't trip. From second to second they were hyper-aware of their physical bodies. They could no more have an accident than they could sleep in a garlic-lined coffin. But that wasn't the most astonishing thing, because she had never seen anyone move like that before. It wasn't just the speed, which was incredible enough, but the grace with which he did it. Harry pivoted in his chair; caught the plates in one hand and Sally in the other. Sergeant von Humpeding was quite slight, but to catch even a child with one hand…

"Oh, clumsy me," she apologised, taking the plates from Harry and scurrying out the door. Vampires didn't scurry.

"What was all that about?!" demanded Angua, when she joined Sally in the kitchen.

"I don't know," said Sally.

"Yes, you do, don't try that on me."

"Well, I'm not sure then," she conceded.

"About what?"

"About Harry. He's a vampire, of course."

"Who, Harry? No he's not, don't be daft!"

"Yes, he is. Trust me, I know whereof I speak. Who else can move like that?"

"Fine, I'll give you that, so what? So are you."

"No, Angie, I think it might be _him_."

"And by _him_ you mean what?"

"Do I have to spell it out?"

"Oh, you mean HIM?"

"Yes, HIM, who did you think I meant?"

"Well, there are lots of _hims."_

"Don't be stupid, or rude. I could feel it in the way he held me."

"He held you for about a second!"

"Believe me, we can tell."

"Can you, really?" Angua smiled.

For the first time that Angua could remember Sally looked completely nonplussed. And then it began to dawn on her.

"You knew?!" she almost yelled

"Not _knew_, no, just suspected. It's a copper thing."

"Does _he_ know?"

"I think he probably does now."

Angua didn't think she'd ever seen so many emotions flash across a single face, but for once Sally was lost for words. Angua wasn't:

"You knew too."

"No, I didn't!" said Sally, affronted.

"Then why did you trip?"

"That was an accident!" sally protested. Angua said nothing, but simply waited. Sally blinked first:

"Alright, but I just wanted to see if he was a vampire. I didn't think it was _him_."

"Are you sure?"

"Nooo," Sally wailed, "I'm not sure of anything anymore."

"Finally, an honest answer."

Sally frowned: "So, what do I do now?"

"Well, those two need to talk, and so do we…"

"Right, come to my place, and bring…vine!"

Meanwhile Carrot and Harry were glaring at each other in a way that would have kept meat from going off for months. They both waited until they heard the banging of the door that told them the women had left. And then they waited a good deal longer.

"Well?" said Carrot, finally.

"Well," said Harry, "I had a meeting today with Nigel Trilby of the Small-businessmen's Association."

"How did that go?"

"It was as unpleasant as Lord Vetinari suggested it would be."

"And what did you learn?"

"That he wasn't quite as unpleasant as Cyril Garage of the Concerned Citizens Committee."

"Sergeant, I am _really_ not in the mood," said Carrot, turning the freezer down another couple of degrees.

"Sorry, sir," said Harry. "They and all the other _community leaders_ seem to object to Omnian businesses."

"Which ones?"

"All of them, though Mr. Garage seems to particularly object to vegetarian restaurants."

"Why so?"

"He didn't seem sure, though he thought there was probably something about not eating meat that was offensive to god."

"Which god?"

"In Mr. Garage's case Offler the Crocodile God."

"He may have a point there."

"I think their point was that Omnians shouldn't be allowed to own businesses at all."

"Then how did they expect them to survive?"

"They didn't seem to care."

"And this is city-wide, is it?"

"As far as I can tell, sir, outside of The Shades, that it is."

"On both sides of the river?"

"Even in the posh bits of Ankh where they never see an Omnian. It's very widespread."

"Even more widespread that you might think," said Carrot, "and I've had a very unpleasant meeting of my own."

"Really, with whom?"

"Kelvin Bridge, editor of _The Post_, and Lord Bothermore."

"That doesn't sound nice," Harry commiserated, "what was it about?"

"I asked them politely to stop stirring up hatred by printing lies."

"And what did they say?"

"That they were only listening to the voice of the people."

"And what was the voice of the people saying?"

"Whatever Lord Bothermore's newspapers told it to."

"Not very productive then?"

"Oh, it gets worse. I've been sending and receiving clacks all day. It seems that Omniphobia is not restricted to Ankh-Morpork, it's being reported in many parts of the Disc."

"But why?" asked Harry.

"I have no idea," Carrot admitted, "but I think the _why_ might be the least of our problems."

"How so?"

"Read your history. Have you any idea what the Omnian Army was capable of? Of course the soldiers were happy to die for Om, but warriors are always happy to die for their god."

"The difference is that they WERE soldiers?"

"Exactly. That discipline can easily be recalled, if necessary. Across the Disc Omnians are being mistreated because people think they are helpless and can't fight back. Actually, they _don't_ fight back, but they're far from helpless. Of course, bullies never learn until you black their eyes, but these bullies might not get a black eye, but rather a spear through their hearts or a sword through their faces instead."

"And we'll be expected to stop it."

"A policeman's lot is not a happy one."

"I fear a policewoman's lot is not a happy one," said Angua, handing Sally a glass of…vine.


End file.
